


Picard in Drag by Jeanita

by internetname



Series: TrekSmut Illustrated Moments [8]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internetname/pseuds/internetname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picard in Drag by Jeanita

**Author's Note:**

> I and some other P/Q writers enjoy making what we call TrekSmut Illustrated Moments. Costumes are emphasized, and the Picard and Q who appear in the stories are usually not Captain Picard and Q of the Continuum. (We also call these "And Then They Fuck" stories. They're short and fun and give them a try!
> 
> This one is actually authored by Jeanita. She let me put it up on my old site, so I'm hoping it's OK to put it up here. (Jeanita, if you see this, write me! Love to hear from you.)

Costumes just do it to me, and I've always been fascinated by the fact that every time you put on clothes, you're dressing up in drag. Robin gave me the idea with Night Clubbing, so I suppose I could blame her for this mild obsession, but the truth is, I have a hard time putting this stuff down. The quoted song is from Kate and Ana McGarigle's (sp?) album from long time ago. I *think* I got most of the words right. Paramount owns Johnny Marie and Irosh Qaatani, though they may not recognize them dressed all fancy. 

 

Picard in Drag

by  
Jeanita

 

Johnny Marie sent the errand boy out to spy for her. She had a plan, and she had twenty minutes to pull it off. She tucked her penis up between her legs, pulled on her tightest girdle and started rummaging through her costumes. Her nails were already bright crimson, and she had the perfect shoes. All she needed was to find that darling 40's style blue dress, and that Lucy Ricardo wig... Just as she was pulling the last bit of costume into place, there was a knock on the door. "Miss Johnny..." The errand boy poked his head in, looked her over and forgot what he had to say. "Wow." 

Johnny laid a delicate hand against her chest, tilted her head to one side, and smiled at him coquettishly. "Think he'll like it?" 

"Uh..." The boy was staring like he wanted to eat her up. "That's what I came to tell you. He's sitting right by the stage, on the left." 

Good. He was here. She noticed that her hand was shaking with relief as she gave the boy a tape. "Take this to the deejay and tell him it's already set. All he has to do is pop it into the machine and press 'go' when I cue him." 

"Okay." The boy still looked distracted. "That's a real pretty dress, Miss Johnny." 

"Thank you, Tyrone." Johnny turned back to check herself in the mirror one last time before going on stage. There was a middle-aged male hidden beneath the expert make-up job, but it took a skillful eye to discern him. She eyed her crotch one last time, making sure her tediously oversized penis was hidden well out of sight, then she left her dressing room to go wait for Elephantasia to finish her performance. 

Johnny didn't like it that her act followed a three-hundred pound lip syncher, but she had no choice. The crowd loved Ellie, and the manager saved the most popular singers until the very end. Of course, Johnny consoled herself, Elephantasia made her look better by contrast. Not that she needed anyone's help. She was slender and elegant, and she moved with the deliberate grace of the movie-queen divas she'd loved from childhood. 

And she was beautiful. Her sharp-featured face had held up over time, and even now, well into her forties, she'd never lacked boyfriends. In fact, she'd always taken men for granted until Irosh Qaatani walked into her life. The night they met was his first time in a drag club. His friends thought they'd get a kick out of his reaction when he found out that underneath the perfume and sexy dresses all the performers were men. 

The group he was with sat right in front that night, and even though Johnny knew the bouncers wouldn't let their mockery get out of hand, she had to steel himself to go out and face them. She hated singing in front of people who had come to ridicule her, but Irosh disappointed his friends. He held up twenties instead of the usual fives or tens, and when she went to get them he was courteous and respectful. Between sets, when the girls mingled with the audience, he'd gone out of his way to talk to her. His questions had been tourist-stupid, and when he left, Johnny dismissed him. Later that night, however, when he came back to see her second performance, and brought her a dozen red roses, she'd been forced to re-evaluate her opinion of his naivete. 

Irosh courted her like the lady she was. At first Johnny had not dared believe he was sincere. She knew all about straights who pretended it was your fault they were attracted to you, and she'd been beaten up more than once. The first time they went to bed together she made sure a knife and a billy club were within easy reach -- better to take her chances with a jail sentence than to end up dead. She climbed between the sheets nearly trembling with fear, but she was determined to find out if he was deluding himself about the reality of what she was. Resolutely, she slid his hand up under her negligee until he touched her penis. 

When Irosh caressed it like was the most precious thing he'd ever handled, she could have wept with relief. 

That summer she came to trust him more and more completely. She even hoped she might be falling in love with him. That had never happened before, but Irosh had fallen for her in a big way and she would have liked to reciprocate. 

Gentleman that he was, he didn't press her to change her feelings towards him. "You're so beautiful, Johnny. I don't care if you don't love me. Just let me stay with you. When you sing..." 

Johnny sighed and turned away from him. When she sang she melted hearts. She beguiled, she enchanted, she seduced. But she wanted a lover who could see past her talent and her carefully cultivated wiles. 

What is it, baby? My wide-eyed houri. My paradise." Irosh ran his hands down her slender body. Sometimes he quoted poetry when they made love, the elegant Arabic syllables pouring from him with such grace and intensity that Johnny wondered if her lover might not really be an angel. Surely nothing human could be so kind and gentle. 

"You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen." And he was. Wavy hair, full mouth, wide brown eyes. Tall and strong. Johnny wished she could be as perfect for him as he was for her, but she didn't believe she could, so after a few months she asked him to go away. 

He'd been heartbroken, and she felt like a monster, which was all the more reason to make him leave. 

"Because I'm not being fair to you," she finally answered his pleas to know why she was doing this. "Because I can't let you keep giving and giving and get nothing in return. It isn't right." 

"That's not true. You give me everything, don't you know that?" 

His objections had fallen on deaf ears, and eventually he gave in and gave her back the key to her apartment. 

He still came to the club every night, but now, instead of lounging around her dressing room, teasing her and making her laugh, he sat and stared yearningly from just beyond the footlights. 

The other singers noticed immediately and offered detailed opinions as to what had probably happened and what she should do. 

Elephantasia told her she was a fool. They'd come in early to pick up their checks, and Ellie lectured her over a pair of gin and tonics. 

"Girl, I've seen the way he looks at you. He loves you, and real love only comes along once in a rare while, so you'd better not mess it up." 

Johnny had nodded solemnly. Ellie would certainly know about rare love. She'd escaped her oppressive Appalachian relatives only to find that here in Baltimore she would usually be pursued by chubby-chasers and men who wanted to score with, as one of them so delicately put it, 'the freakiest bitch I can find.' 

"I'm not good enough for him." Johnny stated flatly. 

"Because you're an old queen, and getting older?" Ellie was no more or less straightforward than any of them, and her blunt words didn't bother Johnny. 

"Because I don't love him," she countered. 

Ellie gave her a disgusted look. "You forget. I've seen how *you* look at him. Don't do anything stupid." 

With that warning Ellie stalked off to get to the bank before it closed. Johnny sat alone, staring at her reflection; relaxing. This bar had been her home for years, and the intrusive commentary, even Ellie's testy scolding, were part of what she loved. These men had a particular sisterhood that bound them together tightly. They fought one another and cared for one another, and gifted each other with unabashed loyalty. And Irosh, bless him, had been willing to be a part of this. He hadn't minded sharing her with her friends or her small following. She only wished she loved him back. 

Suddenly the reflection began to smile at the revelation that hit her. That was it. She *wanted* to love him. That had to count for something. She couldn't remember wanting to be in love with anyone before this. The thought frightened her, and she instinctively looked to the mirror, taking comfort from her perfect image. Maybe it didn't matter that he only saw the diva, not the person. Maybe with time...Could she let herself do this? She really didn't know, but Ellie had been right about one thing. She was a fool if she didn't try. 

She'd spent the afternoon wondering what to do next. She didn't dare call him at work, and even though he'd shown up every night since she kicked him out, that was no guarantee that he'd be here when she wanted him to. 

But Tyrone said he was out there as usual, so now she was waiting in the wings, feeling foolish, but determined to try this silly plan she'd concocted. 

When the deejay announced her, she was actually nervous walking out on stage. The cheers strengthened her, and she launched into 'Black Mountain,' sending up her usual prayer to Bessie that she would do justice to her work. 

Johnny Marie might be a drag queen, but she had too much dignity to become a caricature. She sang with all her heart and skill, and she liked to think that her audience respected her for her abilities. She'd even cut a CD, singing in French as well as English, and she was a popular selection on some of the late-night radio programs. This was real to her, and now she hoped to make it even more real. 

When the applause died down, she took a deep breath and nodded at the deejay. This next song had never been commercially popular, but with it's slow tempo and minor key, it was perfect for what she had in mind. 

My daddy came to see me.   
He came dressed in black.   
He said, "Katie, dear,   
You know I want you back."  
Oh no. Oh no-oh   
No, no, no, no, no.   
He said, "I want you back again."   
He said, "I can't stand to live alone." 

She couldn't see Irosh, but she knew where he was, and as she lilted throught the refrain she headed towards him, stepping carefully past the bright footlights. 

Well I got up from the table,   
Walked across the floor.   
Said, "You're looking well,"  
And he said "I'm feeling old."  
Oh no. Oh no-oh   
No, no, no, no, no.  
He said, "I want you back again."   
He said, "I can't stand to live alone." 

By now the bright lights no longer blinded her, and she saw him, staring up at her with pain in his face. He must think she was mocking him with the words, but she would show him otherwise. She noticed peripherally that she was sweeping her audience along with her like she always did, but she was past caring about other people. This was for Irosh alone. She willed him to understand, and hoped he would accept. 

She smiled at him, then inspiration hit her and she sat down right next to him to sing the next verse. Behind his board, the guy running the lights was probably cursing her, but she didn't care. She took Irosh's hand and sang to him. 

My daddy came to see me.   
He came dressed in brown.  
He said, "Tell me dear,   
Well do I swim or do I drown?"   
Oh no. Oh no-oh.   
No, no, no, no, no.  
You know I had to say yes,   
Because I couldn't let that poor boy down." 

The music trailed off then faded away, but she didn't let go of his hand. Then to make her point as clear as day, she lifted it to her mouth and kissed it. 

The audience loved it, but she continued to ignore them, holding Irosh's gaze. To her great relief, he finally he smiled back at her. He understood. 

Tears glazed her eyes and she stood up suddenly. She still had the rest of her set to do, and she didn't want to ruin her face. She walked back to the stage and forced herself to concentrate on the blues. Tonight, she decided, she wasn't to be blamed for delivering the sad songs with a certain buoyancy. It wasn't every day that an old drag queen took a chance at love. 

END


End file.
